


Look to the Future

by poselikeateam



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alliances, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hate Sex, Introspection, Iorveth POV, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29683197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam
Summary: It always happens the same: they meet, they fight, they fuck, they part. Iorveth doesn't remember how it started, and he doesn't know how it will end, but he knows that it will. Everything does, after all. What he doesn't expect is for the ending to be a new beginning.
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Look to the Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Llama1412](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/gifts).



> my first ever Iorveth/Roche fic because Llama's are so fuckin good, I wanted to take a crack at it. Hope you like it, friend <3

"We shouldn't keep doing this."

It's spoken against Iorveth's lips, barely more than a murmur as hungry mouths press together, as two not-quite-enemies but not-quite-lovers try to devour each other whole and lose themselves in the other in equal measure. 

And he knows. He knows, he _knows_ , they shouldn't keep doing this. Hells, they never should have _started_. Then again, if the world only operated as it _should_ , they wouldn't be in this position in the first place. 

Iorveth doesn't dwell on what-ifs and could-have-beens if he can avoid it. If he's being honest, he doesn't like to dwell on _anything_ that isn't his goals, his cause. If he lets himself think, he'll only get bogged down. Perhaps he's fighting a losing battle, but what else is there, for him? He can't go back to what he was. Not when his people still suffer. Not when he, himself, is a wanted man.

No, this is his lot in life. He fights for what he believes in, because he _must_. There is no integrating himself into human society, and there is no quiet homestead waiting for him in Dol Blathanna. The dh'oine made sure that there would be no place for Iorveth, and so he carved one out for himself. He's sacrificed so _much_. Even if he _could_ give this all up, go back to his music... well, could he really? Is there anything left for Iorveth besides fighting?

Yes. There is this. 

He doesn't know why they started this, but he knows why he continues. He knows why he cannot give this up.

Vernon Roche, Commander of the Blue Stripes, Temeria's Special Forces, is holding him down, one knee between the elf's thighs. His weight is more of a thrill than a comfort, but it is a comfort all the same. 

It always shakes out like this. They meet. They fight. One will best the other. And then... 

To the victor go the spoils.

Everything about this, Iorveth loves, _craves_. He can test his skill with an equal, someone who won't stop if he's injured, who won't go easy on him. This is not a training exercise. This is combat. And yet... whether he wins or loses, Iorveth can't find it in him to care. The outcome is the same: pleasure, white-hot, all-consuming. An escape, a release, and then.

It restarts.

Iorveth does not dignify Roche's statement with a response. He simply bites the dh'oine's neck, _hard_. Even their coupling is a bitter fight. He cannot allow himself to be soft, or he will break.

Things are different, now, if only slightly. Temeria is no more, not as she once was. Roche, now, is in exactly the same position as Iorveth. He, too, is a fugitive, fighting in the shadows of the forests for his people's freedom. Still, they are not the same. They can never be. Sometimes, Iorveth aches, and something within him reaches out, desperate for something _more_ , but he pushes it down.

"Iorveth," Roche says again, after they finish. This is... new. They never talk afterwards. They never acknowledge one another. The less injured party simply gets up, fastens his trousers, and moves on, leaving the other to lick his wounds on his own. "We can't keep doing this."

It hurts. He ignores the pain. He has gotten very used to that. Nothing can last, in this world, but he'll admit that he had hoped that he could cling to this a little longer. He says nothing, waits for Roche to continue, to put the finality of his rejection to words.

Instead, he offers an alliance.

There is shouting. It's a bigger fight than they've had in a long time, at least of this sort. Iorveth thought he was prepared for anything, but he was not prepared for this. He was not prepared to be offered a hand to help pull him from the darkness. He was not prepared to be offered _more_.

Roche leaves, but Iorveth knows he'll be back. They will do this again, at least once. And then, Roche may bring it up again. Now that he's prepared for it, he allows himself to think. Tactically, it makes sense, if their men can learn to work together. Hells, if the two of them can even learn to work together. It will be rocky, but... well, two hands are better than one, are they not? And they are truly the same, now. 

"Never thought I'd be agreeing with you, dh'oine," Iorveth says the next time they meet, the next time Roche asks. An alliance. What an odd concept. Scoia'tael and Blue Stripes — what little is left of them — working together? If someone told him this was in his future a year ago, he might laugh himself to death.

It is, though. And now, they are both commanders. They share a tent. They share strategies. They share men.

They share each other.

Perhaps things will change once more, down the line. No, strike that — things _will_ change. Everything does. Now, though, for the first time, Iorveth has hope. Perhaps, when things change again, it will be for the better.

For the first time in decades at least, Iorveth can see a future for himself. He doesn't know what that future holds, but it's there, and he'll work for it. He'll work for it, but not alone. 

From now on, he will work with Vernon Roche.


End file.
